


What Must it Be? This Energy in Me?

by unremarkablegirl



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Relationships, F/M, Families of Choice, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Feelings, Fluff, Gen, I'm making these tags, Implied Sexual Content, Introspection, Labour (inexplicit), Post-Season/Series 07, Pregnancy, Soft Emori, Team as Family, soft john murphy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-19 02:47:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29619408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unremarkablegirl/pseuds/unremarkablegirl
Summary: The war is over, they've settled on Earth. They've found their peace and created a new family in tattered bonds and broken connections. Together, they've all created a new place to call home. Emori's just content to be with her John. He has always been all that she's needed to have a home but——something tells Emori it's time to expand their family.**Excerpt: She feels her heart swell, yet it cannot disguise the aching, restless feeling still inside her. The feeling only grows more intense when Murphy wraps his arms around her and they sway in the soft sunlight, neither speaking, nor feeling the need to speak. Both content without words as Murphy hooks his chin over her shoulder to gaze out the window alongside her.Emori’s hands drift from the sill to where his rest on her waist. She does not know how long they stand there before the energy inside of her coalesces and she finds herself on the verge of shattering. She feels as though she is on the verge of buzzing out of her skin for as lovely and gentle as this is, she can no longer contain this strange energy.
Relationships: Emori/John Murphy (The 100)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 31
Collections: The 100 Fix-Its and Rewrites, The t100 Writers for BLM Initiative





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for t100fic4blm, [check out the carrd here!](https://t100fic-for-blm.carrd.co/)
> 
> A donation was made to We The Protesters which is a national American organization founded in 2015 with a focus on ending racism and police violence in the US. They are focused on policy change at every level of government. You can check them out [here!](http://www.wetheprotesters.org)

It’s been two months since they all came back from Earth. It’s been two months since the rest of humanity transcended. It’s been a busy two months. They’ve built log cabins and made them homes, they’ve created conservators for their food and just that day Raven had managed to create a running water system in the center of their encampment. 

Currently, they are all sitting around a bonfire by the waterside. Emori sits in Murphy’s lap and the others are all huddled together in little pairs and triads around the fire. Despite the chill of the night air, Emori feels warm. Murphy’s arms are around her and he is playing with her fingers, his nose occasionally brushing up her neck, his laugh warm against her skin. 

Over the crackle of the fire, the others are talking about their families and their childhoods. She stays quiet, she has no memories that aren’t tinged with the need for survival or the harshness of a nomadic desert life.

Clarke is speaking now, not of her own childhood, but of Madi, her own daughter. She speaks not of the struggle of their first few years but of the joys of firsts and the kindness of a child. She speaks of fishing together, of swimming together and water fights. She speaks of teaching Madi to weave and to hunt. She speaks of the aching love she felt the first time Madi called her by her name and how that feeling tripled the first time Madi called her _mom_. She talks about love and a family of two. She speaks of caring for someone dependent on her, of having someone look up to her, not as a leader, but for who she is. 

She trails off and Indra picks up the thread. She’s careful to only talk about when Gaia was young, before duty and beliefs tainted their relationship. She speaks of training Gaia, teaching her the meaning of strength and of perseverance. She remembers helping her daughter pick her first weapon, picking her up every time she fell. Gaia’s head ducks down and Emori is sure that if she looks up, her eyes would be glassy. Indra speaks of traditions and passing on those taught to her by her mother down to her little Gaia. She speaks of softer moments, the first time Gaia dyed her hair, taking her to get her first piercing, the pride she felt the first time Gaia beat her sparring mate. 

Hope slides in from there, talking about her mom and Octavia. She speaks of living together in a one room cabin, of learning to read and write, of learning to plant seeds and allowing gardens to prosper. She speaks of the patience of gardening, the beauty of watching these beings come alive under her palms and Emori is struck with the thought that Monty would have loved her. 

She swallows, turns her attention back to where Octavia has taken over with a story of teaching Hope to swim. They, the two of them, go back and forth with anecdotes. One starts, the other takes over, they switch mid sentence and pick up where the other left off, seamless until Hope gets lost in a memory. She turns into Jordan at her side and Octavia, with worried eyes flickering over Hope’s form, transitions to stories from her own childhood.

Octavia speaks of an entire world made up of one room and two people. She speaks of learning to sew with her mom, learning cards with Bellamy and rushes over the crushing loneliness she had felt for so long. She speaks of patching up her own stuffed toy and sharing a bed with Bellamy. She speaks of the night she was incarcerated, the sheer joy and wonder she had felt when she was allowed on the other side of those four walls. 

Miller, knowing the ending to that story, cuts in with a few stories of his dad. He skims over being a disappointment, talks about the time he was seven and accidentally used his dad’s shock baton against him. He speaks of their time on Earth, of finally being able to teach his dad something, of hunting together and bonding. He trails off, lost in the memory as Jackson twines their fingers together. 

Jordan pipes up next from his spot next to Hope. He, too, had a whole world of two people for the longest of times. But where Hope had a world and Octavia only had a room, he had a ship and stellar views. He had both his parents and learned the constellations as they flew by. He doesn’t talk about the room with the frozen people, the room he thought was filled with corpses for the longest of times. He talks instead of racing through halls and climbing through vents. He speaks of machinery and love and chemistry. He fondly recalls laughing with his dad as they tried to teach his mom Korean.

Emori sits there, wrapped up in her love and her world and listens to these stories filled with warmth and love despite the circumstances. Whether it be secrecy or war or solitude, there was space still for safety and laughter and joy. 

She had grown up in desolate wastelands where laughter was a waste of breath and moisture. She had grown up in silence where the sun scalded the words from her tongue before she had a chance to speak. She had fond memories of her brother, she loved him, but for all that he sacrificed, he wasn’t equipped for love and warmth. Living in the desert scorches that out of you until you’re a husk of a person, hellbent on surviving and nothing else. 

But, sitting here, listening to all these people and learning of all the places that love had grown and prospered, discovering all these connections and memories, it ignites something in her. Emori sits there, silent and curious, and she aches. She doesn’t know why but it feels like her universe is ready to expand. Leaning back against her John, she realizes that it’s not so much that something is missing but that there is the potential for more in ways that she never dreamed about before. 

She is roused from her thoughts by Murphy gently nudging her. It’s only then that she realizes the others are calling out goodbyes and hugging each other while Octavia and Gaia put out the fire. They get up from their log and bid goodnight to the others, subjecting themselves to the rounds of hugs and a few kisses. 

Murphy is the first to pull away from the group, tugging Emori along behind him before wrapping his arm around her waist on their way back to their cabin. 

Once inside, neither bother to light the candles, there’s little furniture in the place and they don’t need the light to maneuver around each other as they take off boots and change. And then they’re slipping under the furs and Emori curls up tight next to Murphy, her arm around his waist and her head tucked under his chin. She feels content. She feels safe.

**

The next day finds Emori drifting aimlessly, mind unfocused and wandering. She is mindless in her fulfillment of her tasks, barely speaking, barely responding to Echo’s words. She feels lost. She feels untethered. 

A touch to her shoulder grounds her briefly and she looks into the concerned eyes of Echo. Echo doesn’t ask, instead giving her a comforting smile and an offer to finish up while Emori goes for a walk to clear her head. Emori wonders if she should tell her that her head is empty. That she cannot grasp onto a single, fleeting thought, each flitting just out of consciousness just as quickly as they enter. She stays silent. She is good at silence. 

Instead, Emori nods once, offers Echo a distracted smile and then she is on her way. To where, she knows not. 

She finds herself taking a meandering walk down the coast. There is an energy buzzing inside her, she doesn’t know where it stemmed from or when it started but she cannot escape it. At one point she takes off her boots, continues to wander just out of reach of the waves lapping at the shore. Still, she cannot escape this feeling, this restlessness. It coalesces under her skin and skitters between her nerves. It continues to leave her mind blank.

She pauses, turns to stare out at the water as her toes dig into the sand and stone of the coast. Her eyes wander, aimless, over the waves and distant mountains as she tries to grasp at fleeting thoughts and unknown emotions. She squints against the sun’s glare. The energy is still there. She doesn’t know what to do with it. She thinks about screaming, letting the energy out through her voice until she is left with a wrecked throat and can finally, blissfully, think. She knows that she won’t. She is good at silence, at sneaking around, at never clearly declaring her intentions. She stays silent, traps her voice inside herself. Digs her toes deeper into the stone and sand, has an idea. 

She bends over, picks up the first stone she can find and throws it into the water. It sinks. This she can do. She has always been able to get to work, to get her hands dirty, to take action. This is what comes easiest to her. 

She picks the next one more carefully, falls into a rhythm of skipping stones, 1, 2, 3, sometimes 4, and once, 5. But most often than not, she counts out a simple 1, 2, 3. She doesn’t know what she’s counting, knows that’s more than just the skips of stone across water. It feels like a countdown. That scares her. 

She closes her hand around the stone she had planned on throwing. Lets it dig into her skin as she goes back to gazing out over the water. Her eyes skip over the water’s surface just as the stones had but instead of sinking, instead of drowning, she feels almost as if she is floating. That strange energy inside of her has not released, has not escaped. It is still there, buoying her with its force. She doesn’t understand. 

She turns from the water’s edge, let’s the stone fall from her hand, doesn’t acknowledge that the action feels heavier than it should, almost as if it signifies something. 

She finds her way back to the cabins. She is still barefoot. She takes a moment to wash her feet in the center of their enclave before walking into her and Murphy’s cabin. The sun has just begun to set. She is restless, still.

She finds herself standing in front of the window, drenched in the fading light. She doesn’t know what to do with herself. She stands there, oddly still given the energy buzzing inside her as her hands grip the window sill until she hears Murphy come in.

He doesn’t say anything. She hears the soft thud of bowls hitting the table and she knows that he brought their portion of dinner home. For all that the enclave and shore have become their group’s home, this cabin shall be her home first and foremost so long as she has her John by her side. 

She feels her heart swell, yet it cannot disguise the aching, restless feeling still inside her. The feeling only grows more intense when Murphy wraps his arms around her and they sway in the soft sunlight, neither speaking, nor feeling the need to speak. Both content without words as Murphy hooks his chin over her shoulder to gaze out the window alongside her. 

Emori’s hands drift from the sill to where his rest on her waist. She does not know how long they stand there before the energy inside of her coalesces and she finds herself on the verge of shattering. She feels as though she is on the verge of buzzing out of her skin for as lovely and gentle as this is, she can no longer contain this strange energy. 

She turns her head, lips brushing against Murphy’s cheek before finding it within herself to speak. It comes more naturally to her in this one moment than it ever has before. 

“I’m tired of waiting, John.” 

His arms tighten around her. “Waiting for what?” 

His arms relax as she squeezes his hands where they’re still held in hers before letting go as she turns around. He lets her, immediately latching back on once she faces him, one hand on her waist and the other cupping the side of her neck gently tilting her head up so that he could look her in the eye.

Emori pauses, takes in the sight of her John drenched in sunlight, the soft light kissing his cheekbones and the light dancing through his hair. His blue eyes sparkle, clear and bright as they look at her. 

She doesn’t know that he is admiring her as well, taking in her backlit silhouette, the way the sun lights her hair and the way she looks as though she is surrounded by a halo. 

She swallows before speaking again, ensuring that her eyes are locked with his as that strange energy dissipates as she lets out these next words, “I want a baby.” 

She searches his gaze, hungry, as she awaits his reaction. 

It is not as explosive as she had thought, his reaction. It is a quiet thing, his reaction to these words. His eyes soften, turn up at the corners, glisten in the dying light as his mouth widens into a helpless grin and he lets loose an incredulous little laugh. “You’d want a family with me?” 

Emori feels her heart swell again, lets the feeling consume her now that her nerves are no longer lit with that strange energy. She feels her lips turn up in the gentlest of smiles as her eyes gloss over with tears ready to fall.

“Baby, baby, _John_ when I said forever, I meant forever and all of its possibilities. I loved you when we were two thieves running through a forest, I loved you in space, I loved you when we were fighting for our lives and when we ran Sanctum. I’ve loved you in war and in peace. I’ve loved you on Earth and on the sea and in the sky, I’ve loved you on another planet; my love for you knows no bounds. I have loved you, I do love you and I will love you for all the unknowns that the future holds. I love you for who you’ve become and all that you’ve been through and all that you’ve done. I love you for your heart and your wit and, and your very soul. So, let me be clear: I want a baby with _you_ , John Murphy.” 

As she speaks, she can taste the salt of her tears as they run down her face, a mirror to those running down Murphy’s face. His eyes search her gaze, just as she had moments ago until he brings his other hand up from her waist to wipe a tear from her cheek. He lets his hand linger there, rubbing her cheek before tilting her head forward to drop a kiss to her forehead. He moves down, brushing a kiss over each fluttering eyelid, brushes a kiss against the swirl of her tattoo before finally meeting her lips in a deep kiss. 

Emori kisses back, desperate, hand coming up to hold onto John’s wrist as he cups her face. She follows him when he moves to break the kiss, rocks back on her heels when he huffs out a quiet laugh to look at his face. 

His eyes are full of wonder and hunger. “Let’s make a baby.” 

It’s Emori's turn to laugh as he turns them around and walks her backwards towards the bed. She lets herself fall back as he climbs over her. 

She is already reaching for the hem of his shirt before he grabs her wrists and presses them down onto the mattress beside her head with a slight smirk, “Let me worship you, ‘Mori.”


	2. Chapter 2

It's been some six weeks since Emori had realized she wanted a baby. The nights following that confession had been passionate and fun and intimate. They had been filled with laughter and moans and whispers of love. 

The past week has been filled with continuous sickness. Emori wakes up, she’s nauseous. She catches a whiff of lunch, she’s sick. It seems like her body is taking any and every chance to empty the contents of her stomach. 

This alongside the apparent delay of her menstrual cycle fills her with hope. Surely, it can only mean one thing. She hasn’t mentioned anything to Murphy though. Not yet. She can’t get his hopes up, not yet. She’s not sure he can handle it. She’s not sure she can handle watching his heartbreak and the hope dim from eyes if it’s not true. So she waits, and she sets out to confirm her thoughts before announcing her joyous suspicion. 

That afternoon, she manages to catch Jackson and lead him aside. One stuttered request later, she is inside his and Miller’s cabin as he pulls out some dried herbs and asks her question after question. His voice is gentle and his movements methodical as he bustles around her and speaks to her. 

Some chewed up herbs and one nauseous reaction later, she has her answer. She is pregnant. 

She cries into Jackson’s arms, his touch soothing and his embrace warm. He has the best bedside manner of anyone she knows or has ever known. 

These are not loud, heaving sobs but quiet, whimpered cries. It is tears streaming down her face as her breath hitches. It is a reaction she tries to quell but that Jackson coaxes out of her, regardless. He makes a quip about doctor’s orders and she doesn’t have the energy to roll her eyes or suppress her fond smile. Still, the tears roll, not out of sadness nor of any relief knowing that her suspicion is now a reality.

No, these are tears that have been trapped inside her for years. The valve so tightly shut, she had thought it rusted with time. These are tears of grief for the dreams she had killed so long ago. The dreams that had slowly morphed into nightmares the more she had learned of the world and her place in it. She cries for the life she never thought she could have, even after all these years, and now it is set before her set in a shining new path of endless possibilities and love. 

She cries for the child she refused to let herself want until the tears dry on her cheeks. Until the valve in her runs dry and she realizes that Jackson’s shirt is soaked because of her. He waves off her concerns, instead gently resting his hands on her shoulder until she quietly admits that she doesn’t know where to go from here. He shows her.

They spend the rest of the afternoon squirrelled away in that cabin. Emori asks him question after question, poking him for knowledge. As is his character, he gives freely and generously. He speaks and he speaks, answering her questions, expanding on his answers, sharing tidbits that she hadn’t even thought to inquire about. By the end, Emori still doesn’t quite know where she’s going but her path at least has been illuminated. 

Their solitude ends with the call to dinner. They walk out, elbows interlinked, daring anyone to question where they were or what they were doing. No one does.

** 

Emori sits on the knowledge of her pregnancy for a week. For a week, it is only she and Jackson that know that something has changed, that something is coming. 

She doesn’t want to hide it from Murphy but she doesn’t know how to broach the topic. It’s caused her to withdraw from him. It’s caused him to worry. She still hasn’t told him why she and Jackson had spent a full afternoon together. This causes him to worry more. 

It all comes out exactly one week after Emori had found out. They are in bed, the sun is just beginning to rise and Emori is awake. Her eyes are tracing Murphy’s features in the faint light. His face is lax with sleep, his mouth slightly open and she can’t help but trace its outline. 

She gasps out a little giggle when Murphy snatches her hand and holds it in place as he leaves kisses on her palm. She didn’t know that he was awake. And then he is looking for her other hand and drawing it out from beneath the blanket to press a kiss to each of her two fingers, her thumb and her palm. He keeps their hands entangled but lets them fall under the furs. 

Their voices ring out in sync as they say the other’s name, though neither’s voice is more than a whisper. Emori swallows. It feels too loud in the dawn, under the cover of the furs, entwined with her love. 

She continues before he has the chance to do so. “I—I have something to tell you.” 

His eyes watch her, the haze of sleep replaced by worry and affection. She swallows again, wonders where that bravery from seven weeks ago has gone. Finds it just below her stomach. 

“We don’t have to wait anymore, John.” 

She knows the exact moment he understands her meaning. His face seems to split under the strength of his grin and then they are rolling and she finds herself sat astride his hips with his hands on her waist. She rests her own just above his shoulders and leans down, her hair a curtain around their faces, creating a world all their own. She hovers just out of reach, teasing. 

He breaks, slides one hand up her spine to settle at the nape of her neck and tug her down into a kiss. It is chaste and they’re both smiling into the kiss, pressing their foreheads together as he squeezes his eyes shut against the swell of tears as her words seem to truly sink in. 

They stay tangled up in each other, exchanging salty kisses and murmuring promises for the future until someone bangs on their door. They laugh into their next kiss. 

**

After that, Murphy can’t stop watching her. His eyes are filled with awe and his every touch is reverently gentle. It makes Emori want to cry. She never thought that they could have this, their own chance at true happiness and a brighter future. She wonders if it's the hormones that are already making her emotional. She knows though, it is because she’s never given herself the chance to feel these things. Always moving, always surviving, always fighting with her back against a wall. Now? Now, she has nowhere she needs to be, she has the world at her fingertips, her family at her back, and a whole future inside of her. 

**

Emori knows that Jackson hasn't told Miller. She knows that he'll defer to her when it comes to breaking the news. 

She and Murphy have been wrapped up in their own world for the past five days as they settle into their new reality and realize their new future. 

They spend that night under their furs and talking about how they'd like to break the news. Both are sorely tempted to casually drop the information into the conversation and simply watch the others lose it. It's a fun thought. They won't though, this new reality of theirs deserves respect and admiration. This is a new beginning and they want to start it off right. That includes the way they speak the truth to the world at large. 

They wait until the next late night bonfire, two days later. 

The conversation reaches a natural lull and no one tries to fill it, all content to watch the flames flicker. 

It is Murphy who clears his throat and brings attention to where the two of them are twined together. The others are slow to turn their heads, relaxed as they are. 

Emori speeds up the process. "We have something to tell you guys."

And just like that, the rest of them snap their heads in their direction, still so suspicious after all this time. It doesn't burn, it makes Emori feel fondness more than anything else. For all that they've been through, it's the shit that she and Murphy can get up to that still causes them to worry. 

She's sure that the matching smiles on both of their faces doesn't help matters much. She can see Jackson's smile where he sits to their left but the others are still staring at only her and Murphy. 

Murphy, the little shit, has to add a bit of flair to the announcement, "There'll be some changes in the next few months, most probably bad–," here Emori elbows him, " _–ow,_ but it'll all be worth it. I promise." 

Echo and Niylah speak at the same time. 

" _What_ changes?”

“ _How_ long?”

Emori speaks next as Murphy’s hand snakes around to rest on her stomach, “We can’t get specific dates but somewhere between, oh, eight to nine months roughly? Right Jackson?”

Jackson’s head dips in acquiescence but Emori also knows there’s a playful smile playing across his lips too. 

It’s endearing, watching the others slowly realize one by one. And then their voices are crashing into each other as they whoop and holler, yelling out congratulations and laughing in sheer joy. 

It is Echo’s voice that rings loudest, though, as she repeats Niylah’s question. “How long?”

The two of them, Murphy and Emori, know what she means by the question but only send mischievous smiles alongside an innocent tilt to their heads her way. Her replying sneer is playful as she launches herself towards them and enfolds the two into a hug. She knows, they all know, that how long they’ve known doesn’t matter. What matters is the future and all that it entails with new life growing inside Emori. 

Raven is right behind her and then they are swallowed by the love and attention of their family as they receive hugs and kisses. 

Eventually they settle, the energy doesn’t dissipate so much as smooth out as the others acclimate to this new information and this new future. Emori can see the plans unfolding in the heads of Raven, Clarke, and Echo. She can see the wonder and curiosity in the eyes of Hope, Jordan, and Levitt. She knows that this, more than anything, is their wakeup call that peace truly is among them. 

This baby isn’t a symbol, she would never let her child be reduced to that. This is a child that shall be raised in peace, with the world at their fingertips and with a loving family at their back. 

**

Emori’s first trimester goes by in a blur of questions and excitement as Indra and Jackson lend out their experience and their knowledge. Already, it’s been decided to lighten Emori’s workload and daily tasks, something she had objected to—not that it made any difference.

It is now the start of her second trimester and she’s starting to show. Emori doesn’t think she’ll ever forget the look of sheer delight on Murphy’s face when he first saw the beginnings of her baby bump. 

She recalls it now with a fond smile as she looks out the window of her cabin. As had been agreed upon, she was off duty, no longer allowed to work for more than an hour after lunch. As she stares out the window, her smile drops as she can’t help but let her thoughts circle back to what has been plaguing her for weeks. 

Almost three months into her pregnancy, it had occurred to her that there was a chance the child would turn out like her. She knows that there is no radiation, but she knows nothing of her genes and whether it would be hereditary. It worries her. She knows it shouldn’t but it does. She remembers feeling inadequate and broken and unsafe for so long. She remembers how it morphed into anger and mistrust and cynicism. She doesn’t want that for her child. She doesn’t want her child to grow up with jagged edges. She knows her child will grow up with love and protection but she wonders if that will be enough. 

She heaves a shuddering breath, squeezes her eyes shut and bites her lip and tries to banish these thoughts from her mind. She fails. Desperate, she opens her eyes, looks out the window and tries to find the others as they move in the woods by the cabin, cutting trees and collecting lumber. She knows that Murphy should be there, alongside Miller and Echo but she hasn’t seen him in quite some time. She leans forward with her hands on the sill, trying to peer out the window to find him.

It’s at that moment that she hears the door open. She twists around, hands still on the sill, tries to put on a small smile, doesn’t have to try so hard when she sees the bowl in Murphy’s hand.

He returns the smile, “Brought you some of those berries you’re obsessed with.” 

He drops the bowl on the table before coming over to her. His arms come around her as he places his hands on top of hers on the sill. Emori twists back around and leans her head back on his shoulder.

His voice is teasing when he next speaks. “This seems familiar, doesn’t it?”

Her voice is breathless, straining under the weight of her thoughts. “Yeah.” 

Her eyes close when she feels Murphy tense around her. Shit. She shouldn’t have spoken but that would have been odd too. 

He turns his head, lips brushing against her temple. When he speaks, his voice is muted, “Talk to me, ‘Mori. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

She swallows. Wonders if she has the words within her, remembers that she had had the words to ask, opens her mouth, “What—,” her voice cracks. She swallows again, Murphy’s hands squeeze tighter around her own.

She speaks again, “What if the baby, what if they turn out like—like me?”

She feels Murphy go still around her, wonders if she shouldn’t have said anything and then her mind blanks out as she is spun around. Her back is pressed against the sill, and her forehead is pressed against Murphy’s. He won’t let her escape. 

She doesn’t realize how tense she is until he starts making comforting sounds, little shushes as he presses his forehead harder against hers, as his hands come up to cup her face and his thumbs brush her cheekbones.

“Hey, hey, so what if they do? We won’t love them any less. They’ll grow up with love and support and, and no one will hurt them, emotionally or physically. Fuck, I don’t care if everyone thinks I’ve finally mellowed out, anyone tries starting anything with our kid, I’ll end them. I don’t care. And, and I’m sure Raven and Echo would also want a piece of them.”

Emori can feel tears welling up in her eyes as she searches his face desperate. She can feel his heartbeat steady beneath her fingertips where they’re pressed into his pulse as she grips his wrists, desperate. He offers her a half smile before dropping to his knees. She startles.

She startles again when he smooths a kiss over her bump, looks up at her in the soft afternoon sunlight, speaks again, “I’m gonna love this baby just like I love you. And, yeah, I know love can’t solve anything but I’m ready to listen and learn and offer support because—because whether they’re born different or not, they don’t deserve any less.”

Emori cups his face in both her hands and feels her heart swell as the tears flow over and stream down her face. She knows that Murphy would be willing to listen and to learn, that even now, he doesn’t know everything about her life and her past and her relationship with her body. 

She knows that some people only fill the air with pretty, empty words. She has known her fair share of liars and cheats. She knows, too, that sometimes it's worse when the person doesn’t do anything at all instead of actively moving against her. She knows the pain of apathy and uncaring stares. She knows this digs in deeper than betrayal and sneering faces because she can act against that. She can plot and rage and attack. She cannot do that against words of spun silk that strangle her.

But, she also knows Murphy. She knows that he has never broken a promise to her. She knows that he is stubborn but she knows that he takes his mistakes to heart and that he’ll go to extremes for those he loves. She knows that he will put in the time and effort that their baby deserves, no matter what. She knows that her baby will grow up learning to love themself. She cries harder. Murphy holds her up and doesn’t let her go. 

**

Towards the end of Emori’s second trimester, Raven finds a way to connect them back to Sanctum. She jury rigged the anomaly stone. Emori is sure the stupid aliens are seething, but in all of their lives, she had yet to meet a force like Raven. 

No one wants to live there, all more than content to stay in the little corner of Earth that they had carved out for themselves but the resources and materials would be wonderful. Emori is certain she sees Jackson fight back tears when Niylah mentions the medbay and all of its supplies. It takes her a moment to figure out why. Then, she can’t stop the smile that spreads across her face as she realizes she wouldn’t have to give birth on Earth. 

**

Jackson is the first to commandeer the anomaly stone, dragging Niylah and Raven with him to set up the medbay and take stock. 

It’s only two days after that that Emori finds herself laying on the medical table of castle’s lab, Murphy at her side as Jackson runs the ultrasound wand over her belly. 

She can see how excited Jackson is to be back in his element, to have proper equipment, to be able to take care of her and the others properly. 

His voice is calm, though, when he asks if they want to know the sex of the baby. 

This is something the two of them have only talked about in brief snatches of whispers beneath furs under the cover of darkness. They have gone back and forth on it, each changing their own mind, attempting to change the other’s, neither truly sure of what they wanted. Or if it really mattered, at the end of the day. 

Emori shakes her head and ekes out a little _no_ to Jackson. He nods in response, offers a small smile. She can see understanding in his eyes. She wonders what it means, that understanding. She doesn’t quite understand it herself. She doesn’t ask. Lets him finish up, lets Murphy guide her off the table and leads the way back to Earth. 

She and Murphy spend the rest of the day curled up in bed. He props her up on pillows and lays himself between her legs. He pushes her shirt over her belly, lets it bunch just beneath her swelling breasts and lays kisses to the skin. They talk between those kisses. About the future, about their pasts, about how this still sometimes feels like a dream. At that, Murphy looks up at her, promises her this is reality, then brushes another kiss across her stomach before he whispers promises to the baby, traces circles and unseen patterns onto her skin. She watches him, enamoured. 

**

Emori is with Raven when it happens. They are laughing, joking around as Raven fits in the new crib to the corner of the cabin. 

Emori is fine one second and then, suddenly, isn’t— “Oh shit.”

Raven turns, panicked, she sees the way Emori grabs at her stomach and the dampness growing between her legs. She panics more. Yells out for Jackson.

**

Time is lost to Emori, as is all feeling below her waist. She is grateful for the epidural. 

She is only aware of sensations. She can hear Jackson’s voice in her ears, calm and steady as he gives her instructions and counts out the contractions. Her hair is stuck to her forehead and the back of her neck, damp with sweat. Her tongue feels too thick in her mouth. Echo’s palm is rough where it is held in her own. She does not know how much time passes before the sound of breathless laughter reaches her ears. A second later, the crying reaches her ears as well.

She cracks open her eyes, tracks the bundle in Jackson’s arms as he cuts the cords, and sets to washing the blood and viscera from her babe. She grips Echo’s hand tighter. Wonders if she should call Murphy in now. 

Echo squeezes her hand once before letting go, Emori turns to her, desperate, but she sees the look in Echo’s eyes, she doesn’t think she should meet the baby before Murphy; it would be dishonourable. 

Echo slips away from her side just as Jackson approaches her, a smile wide on his face. Emori holds out her arms and he gently places the bundle into the cradle. 

“Say hello to your daughter.”

Emori is sure that she is crying. She can feel the tears running down her face as she gazes down at her babe. Bleary eyes stare back, the blue striking against olive skin. Only her face peeks out from the wrap of blankets, Emori raises questioning eyes to Jackson, a shot of fear running through her even now. 

His eyes are kind. “Externally? Healthy. I’ll run some more tests and scans soon.”

Emori cannot help the shuddering breath that escapes her. Her baby won’t have to second guess her worth, won’t have to work twice as hard, won’t have to struggle to do tasks others breeze through. 

Movement behind Jackson catches her eye, it’s Murphy. He pauses when their eyes meet, almost as if he is stuck to the spot. His eyes flicker from her face to the bundle in her arms, back and forth as he wavers on the spot, as if he’s afraid to come closer. Emori swallows. 

Jackson follows her gaze, turns around and beckons Murphy over with a tilt of his head. Murphy does not move. Jackson turns back around, squeezes Emori’s shoulder with a small smile and then moves to leave.

Murphy stays rooted to the spot until the door closes behind Jackson. Only then does he dare venture forward, his steps light and cautious. Emori cannot tell if he is afraid of the baby or thinks that he will scare the baby. She is not sure which one breaks her heart more. She knows that for all their talks and late night conversation, for all that they’ve bared their hearts and their souls over the past nine months, it is so much scarier when reality meets up to you and you are within the very moment you’ve been anticipating for so long. She knows this. 

Knowing this, she offers him a gentle smile, shifts over on the cot in clear invitation and waits. She does not rush him. She maintains eye contact, does not let him look away, even as she shifts the cradle of her arms to better support the babe. 

He reaches the cot, but does not make a move to sit. His eyes are filled with wonder and glazed with tears as they take in the new life in her arms. She watches as his mouth curls up into a breathless smile, the amazement bare for her to see. He reaches out a hesitant hand, brushes his fingers over the crown of the babe’s head and finally wretches his eyes back up to Emori’s face. She is sure that she is crying again. 

And then, he is crying as well. Slow, silent tears make their way down his face, catching in the upturned corners of his mouth. He leans forward, smooths a hand over her forehead, brushes away the matted hair and presses a lingering kiss there. Emori tips her head up, he presses his forehead to hers, his other hand still carefully resting on the babe’s head. His touch is light, reverent. 

Her voice is soft, if slightly hoarse when she breaks the silence. “Would you like to hold your daughter?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want you all to know that this chapter turned out way way longer than I expected oops
> 
> (also comments are nice okay sorry)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr [@unremarkablegirl!](https://unremarkablegirl.tumblr.com) :)
> 
> Chapter 2 should be up shortly (if exams don't kill me); it's mostly just excerpts and more feelings :D
> 
> There's a moodboard! You can find it [here!](https://unremarkablegirl.tumblr.com/post/643777713056940032/what-must-it-be-this-energy-in-me-memori-post) and it was made by [@princesshedas!](https://princesshedas.tumblr.com)


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